The Rising Tide
by hansolo18
Summary: We enter the mind of a young Ranger nicknamed Com. We watch him and the men he serves with struggle through D-day and the mission to save P. Ryan. We see the ordeal through different eyes and experience as the men come to terms with themselves and the war
1. Invasion

The Rising Tide- To save Private ryan Redone

The Rising Tide

**Authors note- This story is better known as To Save Private Ryan. Taking into account that I wrote that story three years ago, I decided to completely redo it. You will obviously find commonalities. I will be paying more attention to Com's character as he was shoved off to the side TSPR. Thank you for putting up with me.**

**-I don't own SPR. But I'd sure like to. **

Steel gray waves crashed into the landing craft as a company of men floated towards Omaha Beach.

It was the June 6th, 1944. All around men were getting sick, some were praying and a few… a few men just sat, eyes glued to the approaching coastline. One man among that group sat, cold, eyes lifeless, just like a shell. A shell of a man, just empty, no thoughts or feelings. He had done this too many times already at the young age of 19. Ruined by war like so many others the young Sergeant sat, waiting, calculating, and hoping. He known as Com. A boy who had enlisted in the army at 17 and was turned into a man by the time he finished. He went through basic, through Ranger training and was out in Africa even before the US entered the Second World War. He was tall with lean muscles and earthy brown hair. His grey eyes matched the waves that were smashing into the craft.

His captain stood behind him. Dark haired, tanned, and at least 30 year old. He was the oldest in the craft.

A soldier near the front, a new recruit was breaking down. "Are we all gonna die!" He asked voice quivering. The captain looked at him fixing a smile upon his face.

"No, two thirds tops." He said calmly.

The soldier whimpered and hid his face in his hands. John Miller turned to his Sergeant and the others in the boat and said. "I want every one of you to look at the man on your left. Now look at the man on your right. Feel sorry for those to sons-of-bitches, cause they're going to get it, and you're not going to get a scratch." A few smiled and Com shook his head with a grim smile. The carrier continued towards the beach. One or two of the German positions opened fire letting off a few sporadic rounds.

"Well Com I say we still got a few more in us, ya think?" Miller asked from the bench behind you.

"Of course. I wouldn't be here if we didn't." Com said a grin loosening the tense look on his face.

The boats were minutes away from releasing their loads. Machine gun fire erupted in front of the men. Well placed bullets pelted the some of the soldiers in the boat. Com ducked as a bullet whirled towards him with a horrible sucking noise. It slammed into the steel wall beside him with a sharp ping and he shook his head in a dazed way. The carrier pulled up five feet from the beach and the unloading gate opened. The poor souls who rushed out first were blown to smithereens. Yells of pain, and anger flowed over the beach.

Com jumped over the edge of the boat hoping to find an escape in the water. He sunk when it turned out to be deeper then he anticipated. The water was cold and sent shivers deep into his bones. His gear pulled him down but he managed to struggle above the water and out onto the beach.

The first sound he heard was Millers yell. "MOVE GODDAMNIT GO GO Go!!".

There was a rain of gunfire and grenades from the enemy. The sand around the two Rangers exploded and flew through the air. Both ignored the flying ground as best they could. The remainder of the men from the company looked towards the Captain for guidance. Miller signaled to the men trying to regroup them.

Miller jerked his hand towards a high cliff. "THERE! THERE! HOOKS THERE! FIRE SQUAD, THOSE ROCKS!" He yelled angrily.

The men obeyed and fired, while some threw grappling hooks up against the cliff. The trek up would bring them into German territories but everyone knew their mission. Com swung his M1 across his back and scaled the wall with men following. Fire hit the rocks around them and a sharp piece struck him in the face. A blood welled then spilled in a streak that divided his nose in half. When Com reached the top of the incline he quickly rubbed his shoulder against the gash and pinned down along with the other waiting soldiers.

The Captain joined him and looked around for a route. The older man looked around and saw a ledge that offered something of a protective over hanging. "That's where we go." He motioned toward it. Miller called out names and motioned the men on.

The soldiers tried their bests not to get hit as they sprinted pell-mell towards the ledge.

"That's one damned shooting gallery sir!" Com yelled at his captain.

"Its nothing compared to North Africa, you remember that mess?" Miller called back in that nonchalant way of his.

"Course I do. We practically died. Hard to forget something like that. Wouldn't you say?"

"That was when we got that that damn medal wasn't it?."

"It gives you permission to talkback." Com said pointedly.

"It never stopped you!" Miller called and ended the banter.

The three of the six men that ran before Com were shot before he even got to the walkway. Miller motioned for Jackson, a tall, lanky blond, Alabama boy who usually palled around with Com, to come forward.

"Jackson pick off a few will you?" The Captain asked waved his hand towards the German position.

"You betcha, Captain." Jackson said his voice carrying a thick accent. The Captain turned to the next six and yelled "GO!!"

They sprinted through the ledge but the Germans downed them before they could get across. Miller, Jackson and Com took a collective breath as they ran forward into the mess.

The three of them miraculously made it out alive and rushed towards a large brick wall where the three survivors of the second run stood waiting. The machine gun fire that antagonized them previously thudded against the wall. Miller turned and scanned the remaining faces and nodded with a satisfied frown.

"Reiben and Sarge, get ready to go out and fire. Jackson you see that crater over there," He pointed," it will give you shelter from that machinegun. Go there."

The men nodded and got into position.

"GO!" Miller yelled. And with that, Jackson took off long legs propelling him forward as Reiben and Sarge provided covering fire. Jackson jumped into the crater and the German gun turned on Sarge and Rei. Miller acted quickly. He stepped out into the open and the target was too good to pass up. The gunner swung the gun towards the Captain and fired. Com's hand grabbed his collar and yanked him back behind the safety of the wall just as the bullets thudded into the dirt where he had been standing. The older mans boot wasn't as lucky. Its heel was blown clean off.

"Damn it Captain!" Com swore angrily.

Sarge a older man with short grey brown hair, turned on him and bellowed. "CAPTAIN, IF YOUR MOTHER SAW YOU DO THAT, SHE'D BE VERY UPSET!"

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY MOTHER!" Miller laughed. He unusually talkative.

"Captain you're an idiot. What the hell were you thinking?!" Com scolded, relief filling his body now that the moment's danger was over.

Richard Reiben, one of the companies B.A.R. gunners pulled a grenade from his arsenal and chucked it at the machinegun. It blew and the danger was no more. Com turned to the small dark-haired Italian and gave him a smile. "Good to see you to Com." The fiery man smirked.

As they neared the German bunker Com noticed the last man in small the group. The happy go lucky medic gave him a smile. Miller turned to him and motioned to the quiet soft spoken man. "Ok, Wade, your turn."

"Captain, I love it when you say that." Wade laughed joyfully, happy to finally be filling one of his jobs. He pulled a satchel of explosions from his bag and ran towards the bunkers throwing the satchel charges into the machinegun ports.

The roar of the gun died down and Com looked over towards the beach. The sand was died crimson and the water was saturated with the same rusty color. Bodies were strewn across the beach. Some were torn to pieces while others were whole, as if they died in their sleep. He frowned as misery washed over him once more. Sarge Horvath joined him and put a heavy hand on his shoulder and pulled him away from the grisly seen. Miller turned and led the men towards the Americans.


	2. The Beach and Beyond

Happy Memorial Day

**Happy Memorial Day. **

Although the nests above the beach were cleared there were still scattered German outposts hidden in the brush, waiting for the allied soldiers to stumble upon them. One of these, a small group of machine gunners, had their sights on the Rangers. The group of five men huddled in a ditch waiting for them to change clips.

Reiben glanced over the side and groaned. "Sir, what if they send some other company into Caen ahead of us while we're pinned down here?"

"Don't worry, we're the only Rangers this side of the continent, were going to be first into Caen." Miller said soothingly ignoring his B.A.R. gunners whining.

"Who cares?" Sarge said popping up to take a shot a hurried shot at the Germans.

"I care!" Reiben protested indignantly, "Don't you know what Caen's famous for, Sarge?"

"Frogs?"

"Lingerie!" Reiben snapped and a warm smile made its way across his face.

"Yeah, so? What's your point?"

A mortar round exploded in the distance the machine gunners stopped firing long enough for Jackson and Com rise and take down the two men. The squad rose and moved on making their way quietly through the brush. But then…

"You ever heard of employee discounts! My uncle sells shoes, gets twenty-five percent off everything in the line, the old mans got a closet filled with the best looking shoes you ever seen." Rei called walking a few feet behind Sarge.

"Your point?" Com asked grimacing slightly as he wiped his hand gingerly across his nose.

"Just picture some French number who's been spending all day, every day, making cream-colored, shear-body negligees with gentle-lift silk cups and gathered empire waists, what the hell you think she wears at night?" Reiben responded darkly.

"I see your point." Com said, weighing the thought in his mind. The Captain turned to Reiben, eyebrows cranked high.

"Reiben, how the hell do you know so much about lingerie?"

"Lingerie is my life, sir. My mother's got a shop in Brooklyn, I grew up in it, from the time I could crawl. We carry Caen lingerie, it's the best there is, it's all I been thinking about since the invasion."

The eager Germans fired more bullets in your direction. "There's a war on, good chance they're not still making lingerie in Caen." Miller said pointedly as he stepped beyond there range and continued on, calm as if going for a stroll in the park.

"Oh, Captain, they'll always make lingerie, it's one of the three basic needs of man -- food, shelter, silk teddies."

"Dream on, private." Miller with a smile.

"Happy to, sir."

Miller took the leading point and proceeded to headquarters.

Imagine if you will a scene in a cowboy movie. But not just any scene, or any movie for that matter, cause I imagine if you've seen one you've seen 'em all and you know exactly what I'm talking about. That one scene where the cattle are in a deranged, sprinting mass, smashing into each other, and being downright complicated. The one that can be compared to the mass of women clawing each others eyes out at a 70 off wedding gown sale?

Yes THAT scene. You do indeed know the one. Now I want you to imagine If those cattle were human, Young men in fact, soldiers, if you want to go that far. Now imagine this group of wild young men confined to a small strip of beach.

But if your imagination is lacking today, it will suffice to say the Head Quarters was an absolute wreck.

The Squad tramped down the improvised road following the tire tracks of jeeps, tanks, and halftracks that had cut ruts in the sandy terrain. Men were flooding up the beach in waves as the landing craft dropped them off. It was easy to tell the men who weren't in the battle. Many were laughing, enjoying themselves while griping about when they'd get to see a fight. They were sprawled along the road waiting for orders to come in. One soldier called out. "WHERE'VE YOU GUYS BEEN? YOU GET LOST!" He laughed along with his buddies.

Reiben glared and gripped his BAR hard. "YAH WELL WHERE'VE YOU BEEN PRETTY BOY! SITTING ON A DAMN LITTLE BOAT WHILE WE WERE OUT HERE?!"

Com grabbed his arm and pulled him along. "They'll be the first ones to get it Reiben, leave 'em for the Germans."

The man from Brooklyn growled under his breath and allowed himself to be pulled along.

The captain stopped in front of a large tent. He turned to Sarge. "Go find a spot to hole up. I'll find you later." He turned and went in search of the General.

"Alright boys lets go." Sarge called walking out across the road. He stopped when he found a spot of shade under a camo net. He dropped his pack and pulled of his helmet as he sat down. He groaned slightly. Jackson stuck some chew in his mouth and looked around at the men who were funneling in from the beach.

Com rubbed gently at his face, trying to assess the damage. Blood rand in trickles down his face. The wound was still open. Wade returned from taking a leak and grabbed Com's chin and turned his face so he could get a good look. "We gotta clean that up buddy." The sergeant grumbled but allowed Wade to take care of it.

Reiben laughed when he grimaced from the sting of rubbing alcohol. "Yah Com, we don't want your pretty face to rot off."

Com glared and felt rather stupid when Wade bandaged it. Wade clapped him on the shoulder and sat back puffing on his cigarette. Jackson spat over his shoulder and grinning. "Y'all look mighty fine."

"Shut up."

Sarge took a swig of his water and turned to Reiben. "So Lingerie huh?" Captain Miller returned, a dark look clouding his face. "Put on your traveling shoes, Boys, we're heading out." He turned waving his two NCO's away from the small group.

"Where to Captain? Caen?" The youngest member asked.

"I wish. We're taking a squad up to Ramelle on a public relations mission."

"You? Leading a squad?" Sarge questioned eyes brows shooting up.

"Some private up there lost three brothers and got a ticket home."

"What about the company?" Com asked worried about loosing his buddies.

"Their going to Simpson."

"Simpson? Jesus Christ on a fucking pogo stick!" Sarge snarled.

"I want Reiben on B.A.R; Jackson with his sniper rifle; Beasley, demolition." Miller counted off.

"Beasley's dead." Com muttered.

"Okay, Wade. Translators?"

"Fresh out."

"What about Talbot?"

"Twenty minutes ago."

"Damn, I'll go see if I can find another one. You get Reiben, Jackson and Wade, meet me at transport." Miller said angrily.

"Yes sir."

Miller gathered what information he could and met the others. At the Transport Depot, dust and confusion reigned king; Vehicles of every sort were moving in strait from landing on the beach. In the middle of the mess as a Supply Sergeant who was making the best he could of the chaotic situation. He yelled at his Private. "GET THOSE DODDAMNED HALF-TRACKS OUTAHERE!"

Com watched them with his eyebrows knitted together trying to keep up with the group as they struggled through the mess towards the man

Reiben called to Miller pleadingly. "Please, Sir, you can't take me to Ramelle, I got to go to Caen! They make lingerie there, its beautiful, the best! Oh please sir…"

"Oh yes sir. The best. I've just got to see it, to touch it at least once." Com mimicked rolling his eyes and smacking his friend on the back of the helmet.

Miller ignored the two. "Sorry Reiben, I need a B.A.R. and you're the best."

Reiben was desperate. "No, I'm not, Kaback is, honest or what about Faulkner? Or that little guy with the glasses?"

Miller just shook his head. "Trust me you're the best." Reiben objected with a groan.

The Captain jerked his head telling them to follow and he strode off toward the supply sergeant. Sarge caught up with him. "What about that translator?" Miller shrugged.

"I've got one in line."

The Sergeants makeshift office it was chaos. Papers spilled off the two wooden crates and ink spilled from a broken pen. Vehicles thundered by sending some of the papers swirling. The sergeant grabbed them and stuck them haphazardly under a rock that was already holding down others.

"Sergeant I need a truck." Miller said.

"Sorry, sir, fresh out of trucks, how bout a '38 Ford Roadster, hardtop, red with black interior."

Com's eyes lit up.

"White walls?" Miller asked.

The sergeant shook his head. "No white walls sir…there's a war on." Com's whole day was ruined.

The sergeant turned to his helper. "NOT THERE, YOU IDIOT, OVER THERE!" He turned back to Miller, "I cant help you sir."

Miller tried again. "A half track, anything."

"No sir sorry. Division is using everything on wheels to get to Caen."

Reiben whined and Com squeezed his shoulder. "We'll get their. Don't worry bout it."

"How come your guys aren't going?" Sergeant asked noticing Millers shoulder patch.

Captain ignored him. He pointed to a jeep he just spied. "What about that jeep?"

The sergeant looked. "That's General Gavin's. His lap dog told me if anyone breathes on it, I'll get busted and if anyone so much as touches it with their little finger, I'll get court marshaled. If you were to take it, they'd shoot me."

"Cap'n, does that mean we got to walk all the way up to Ramelle?" Jackson looked at him unhappily.

The supply man looked at them oddly. "What's at Ramelle but a load of Germans?"

"A Paratrooper named Ryan. He's going home. If he isn't dead…"Com clarified.

"His three brothers were killed in action. The man wants him out of there." The Sergeants face softened.

"Damn…I got a couple of brothers…" Miller gave him a look, noting his action coldly. The sergeant's eyes flicked at the Jeep.

They were on the road leading from transport. They drove off fast in the jeep. Sarge was at the wheel, weaving and bouncing through the masses of men and vehicles. Miller had shot gun and the rest of the boys were crammed in back. Com got a real nice view of Jackson's knees when they took a pothole and went flying towards the floor. The scratch on his face broke open and the bandages were splashed with red.

The jeep weaved through the staging area when Miller called for a stop. It skidded to a stop in front of a white tent. A steady stream of vehicles and soldiers moved around. They could pick up a few distant guns going off. Miller hopped out and strode his way into the white tent.

The Jeep headed off once more and then they were on the road, but their number was up to seven as they were joined by a thin, worried man, called Upham.

The car peeled out of the station with Upham crammed in the back with the rest. Jackson took a look around. He could see a spot of beach that was covered in a mountain of supplies, there was a steady stream of vehicles, barrage balloons, and anchored steel cables. Off in the ocean was a fleet of Ships floating in red dyed water. Explosions rumbled in the distance.

Sarge weaved his way through the middle of the mess, speeding away from the beach and heading inland. The dirt roads were littered with destroyed German vehicles and equipment. Jackson swore he spotted a few bodies along in the mix but he wasn't interested enough to confirm.

Com's eyes fell on Upham who was cradling a pristine M-1 rifle, he was pale as a ghost, and shook with every breath. Wade gazed around placidly and Reiben was bitching about the amount of space the guys had back there. The brown haired man was close to joining him

"Captain, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Reiben." Miller didn't take his eyes off the map.

"Where are you planning on putting Private Ryan, sir?" The others groaned before Rei continued. "It's just that it's kind of crowded back here, I was wondering if you're expecting to have more room on the way back?" Wade made a noise of protest. A _little_ room wasn't going to be enough.

Miller pointed out a turn to Sarge then folded up his map. "Now we've got a straight shot, due north, to Ramelle, twenty-six miles, two villages between here and there, St. Mere, then Bernay. We'll take jeep as far as we can, then go on foot."

"We in radio contact with anybody up there?" Sarge asked.

"Somebody put the wrong crystals in every one of the Hundred-and-First's radios the night before the drop, not one of them works. We're going in blind."

"Well that's beautiful." Com grunted from his spot squeezed next to Jackson. Reiben sighed.

"And I usually like surprises."

Sarge frowned turning the wheel a bit. "What are we likely to run into?"

Miller made a sound close to a dry laugh. "A fucking mess, two maybe three Kraut companies, no fronts, no lines, the drops were completely fouled up, we've got little pockets of paratroopers all over the place, trying to hang on. Command says we hold St. Mere, but north of that, it's all Krauts. Even if Ryan's where he's supposed to be, he's more than likely dead."

"Hell of a mission." Com grunted pulling his hand out from under a bag off ammo that got upset from the last bump.


	3. Explosions in the Sky

The atmosphere in the back of the jeep was edging towards hostile

The atmosphere in the back of the jeep was edging towards hostile. Timothy Upham in his innocence inspected every man as one would an exotic animal. Reiben bristled at the unwanted scrutiny. He glared back at the man in New Yorker style, a look that can be compared to Royalty scoffing at their subjects.

"Upham cleaned his throat nervously and gave a hopeful smile."So, uh, you're all Rangers?"

"Look at him. He's a genius!" Com muttered. Reiben jerked his head towards Upham and mouthed 'is he serious?" It turned out he was.

"I'm Upham." He pointed to his corporal stripes. "Ignore these, please; I know all that breaks down in combat." Jaws dropped all around. Com had trouble keeping his laughter down. His shoulders trembled and he bit the inside of his mouth but a snicker escaped.

Reiben turned to Wade. "You want to shoot him or should I?"

Wade shrugged. "It's not my turn." Reiben turned and asked politely. "How bout you Sergeant?"

Com shrugged still laughing. "I will if Jackson doesn't want to." He turned to the lanky Southerner. "How bout it?"

Jackson shook his head. "Hell, no, last time I shot a corporal, Cap'n Miller near bit my head off."

Upham reacted like a firework to Miller's name. He perked up almost immediately. "Miller?"

Captain turned back. "I don't want anybody to shoot him, an order. He speaks French and his German has a touch of the Bavarian."

"Sir, are you Captain John Miller?"

Miller grimaced. "...who won the Congressional Medal Hon...?" Upham stopped, cold chills running down his back. The men in back shot him warning glares. Miller relaxed and his face was mask without emotion. No one spoke and in time it passed like nothing happened.

"Left." Miller motioned to Sarge.

A look of epiphany passed over Reiben's face. "Captain, I gotta tell you, the irony of this mission in fucking killing me." He smiled at the men in back.

"Yeah how?" The Captain asked from behind his map.

Com smiled back in the calm, friendly manner one would use on a patient in an insane asylum. The words 'He's finally cracked' passed through his mind.

"I should be on my way to Caen, sir. It's like Beethoven, the guy's one of the greatest composers ever lived and he goes deaf. Go figure, I mean, who'd he piss off? And here I am, the Beethoven of ladies foundation at the center of the known lingerie universe and instead, I'm going to Ramelle to save some fucking private who's probably already dead."

Com cocked his eyebrow and gave a true grin. "Ah but there's always a bright side. Look for it." Reiben glared at him.

"You know what Ramelle is famous for, Com? Cheese. The rest of the company is going to Caen and we're going to the goddamned cheese capital of France. There is no bright side."

Miller shook his head. "There's always a bright side."

"Well I'm listening, sir."

"Well, I, for one, like cheese."

"Hell I don't mind going to Ramelle, as long as there's something up there for me to blow up." Wade piped up cheerfully.

"Well, you're a happy idiot." Reiben scoffed at the Medic. They took a sharp turn and the men slid into each other swearing up a storm.

"Com what's' yer bright side?" Jackson asked after spiting out his chewing tobacco.

Com looked at his boot and scratched the side of his nose, thinking it carefully. "Well… one of my brothers is a paratrooper. He might be up there with Ryan. I haven't seen him for 3 years. So I guess that's mine." His body jerked forward as the jeep skidded to a stop in front of a road master.

Miller called to him. "How's the road up to St. Mere?"

The sergeant looked down the road and back to him. "Bad, sir. There're some eighty-eights hiding somewhere, knocking the hell out of our traffic." Miller sighed.

"Anybody getting through?"

The Sergeant looked edgy. "The lucky ones."

Miller nodded to Sarge. The man was unforgiving, he floored it and sent everyone in back crashing around. The jeep barreled down a road pockmarked with craters. They sped past totaled American jeeps. They were direct hits. Sarge swerved and for the third time that day the soldiers got closer to everybody else then they wanted to. Wade groaned touching his eye tenderly. Upham moaned weakly when he saw bodies scattered around the obliterated jeeps.

With little thought Com noted Upham's reaction and grabbed hold of the side of the car. "Hell this is better then Coney Island!" Reiben snarled.

"Yeah Shuddup." Sarge growled back at him swerving to the left, but still they hit the bump he tried to avoid and Reiben went flying and he came down on his shovel. He hollered in pain rubbing his ass.

Miller glanced back. "Just trying to make room for Ryan."

Reiben shot Miller a dirty look and shifted his belt so the shovel was out from under his butt. They rounded a bend and saw a nice, strait, safe looking stretch of road. It was almost perfect except… for the half dozen burning, obliterated vehicles that crowded the strip. Wades eyes widened when he saw an Eighty-eight shell come screaming in. It landed right behind the jeep and blew a new creator. Dirt showered the men.

"Sarge?" Miller says sweetly. The man in question floored it and Com grabbed for the side.

"Well this is fun isn't it? Just like Coney Island, right Rei?" Com shooting him a cynical grin.

"Shut up."

A shell exploded thirty yards ahead. Miller directed Sarge off the road. "They've got it zeroed. Sarge yanked the wheel and off they went. There was another explosion only a few feet behind. Shrapnel hit Com's helmet with a sharp ping. Sarge was driving like a mad man. Another explosion by the side showered him with debris.

"Jesus!" Sarge yelled. Miller yanked his head around looking for a safe spot.

"They've got a hell of a spotter somewhere." Another shell dropped sending up a fiery ball, another close call to add to the list. The jeep was peppered with shrapnel. Sarge barreled through smoke. The man began to snake their way forward with out slowing. A crater suddenly appeared through the smoke, it was too late to avoid it. The breaks squealed and just before it hit the edge. The car stopped.

All in back were thrown from the jeep. Com landed painfully on his shoulders. Breath escaped his lungs and he let out a pained gasp, trying to fill his lungs with the sweet breath of life. A shell exploded thirty yards to his left ended his paralysis. He struggled to his feet as Sarge reversed in soft dirt. The tires got no traction and it just spun. Com and the other four shouldered the jeep and push for their lives. There was no way they going to walk the whole way to Ramelle. The wheels still spun hopelessly.

Com tired to ignore a shell that landed to the right of them but Miller was the only one who truly managed that feat.

"Captain, they got us zeroed!" Sarge yelled.

"FORWARD, FORWARD, REVERSE!" Miller screamed. Sarge slammed it backwards and it rocked. It made a bit of progress so he tried it again.

"Uh, Captain…" Sarge tried eyes wide.

"Push!" Miller yelled.

"Uh, Captain…" Sarge was getting desperate. The tires screamed. It was almost out. Those on the ground pushed like maniacs. "Oh, captain…" Sarge said sweetly. The jeep rocked back in and went deeper into the dirt.

"Shit!" Miller hissed. There was a scream of a shell and Miller finally let his boys go. They took off instantly sprinting away from the jeep. The shell screamed in and they hit the dirt.

Com picked his head up out of the grass after he felt the impact of the explosion. Dirt and rock continued to shower the troops as the dusty cloud settled. From the corner of his eye he could see that the jeep was totally obliterated. The shelling hit its mark.

Sarge was the first to regain footing he pulled the Captain up.

"Here come the mortars!" Miller screamed over the high pitched whine of falling artillery. He urged the others into action. The men took off zigzagging through the field. The ground trembled as bombs hit near them exploding into deadly shrapnel.

Com's feet shot out from under him and he slammed face first into the ground. A hand attached itself to his collar and pulled him up and along. "Common Buddy." Jackson urged as he pulled him up and forward. The frantic men disappeared into the woods and the explosions disappeared as quickly as they had. The seven men huddled around gasping for breath.

"Check your gear." A winded Miller ordered. Hands flew to pockets and a quick search was made. Just about everything was there.

Reiben shook his head remembering the jeep. "General Gavin is going to be very irritated with you, Captain."

Miller stared back towards the road. "Sarge maps."

The man passed them to him and moved next to his shoulder. "Two eighty-eights, just under two and a half miles, that way, vector from the jeep, through those two trees at the base of the mill. The mortars came from the behind that rise. Four of them…." He muttered to himself. "Wade Radio?"

Upham looked on in amazement. "You can tell that just by the sound, sir?"

Miller shook his head a grim smile upon his face. "That's not all. There were nine gunners on eight-eights, one had a broken heel on his boot, two had bratwurst for supper last night, one of them is named Frits, and the other, Hans, Maybe, I knot know, It's hard to tell."

Jackson let out a quiet laugh. "Corporal, you have just seen one of Captain Miller's many God-given talents. If, by some miracle, you survive, you will witness many more of them."

Sarge looked at him after plotting the information. "Got it sir. Are we going to take care of those?"

Miller shook his head. "That's not what we're here for."

"Got command, Captain." Wade called.

Miller took the field telephone and talked over the radio. Com, Reiben, Jackson and Wade joked around. Upham stood between Sarge and the smiling group unsure of what to do.

Miller hung up the phone. "Alright boys lets go."

Jackson shouldered his rife. "Sir, wouldn't take us but a minute to put out them eighty-eights."

Sarge nodded. "He's right. And it might be kind of dangerous for those flyboys." Miller shook his head. "Tell that to Private James Ryan. Orders. Lets go." Miller took off and the rest of the soldiers followed him. Upham trailed behind.

They camped in the woods that night. Little was said until they started the next morning. It was around nine when they cleared the edge of the wood and made their way through a grassy meadow. Miller and Sarge walked at point while the others lollygagged behind in scattered intervals. Each had his rifle at the ready.

Upham jogged up to Reiben a pleasant smile on his face. "So, where are you from?" He asked hopefully.

Reiben had the 'Look' back on his face. "Get lost."

Upham just smiled lamely and moved up the line to Jackson. Com ignored the Corporal as he kept in pace with his Southern friend.

"So, where are you from?" Upham asked again.

Jackson gave a look. "You writin' a book or somethin'?"

Upham nodded. "As a matter of fact, I am."

Com rolled his eyes. "Figures.".

Wade over heard and smiled brightly at Upham. He couldn't pass it up. "I'm Wade, that's spelled, W-A-D-E, I'm small but wiry, with piercing, steel-gray eyes, and a rough-hewn but handsome face, I'm from Colorado, my father's a mining engineer, and don't you take notes?" He asked off handedly as he lit up a cigarette.

Upham shook his head. Then asked. "Demolition right?"

"Since I was nine years old. They got a lot of explosives around mines. Me and my little brother could get into any warehouse you ever saw. Damn, we had fun!"

"He acts as a Medic to. Boys a god with medicine. Isn't that right Wadey?" Com gave him a soft pound on the back.

Jackson shrugged and sucked on his chew. "I'm Jackson. I'm from West Fork, Tennessee. My pappy's a preacher; he and his two brothers got a ministry, The Blessed Church of the Wandering Gospel."

"In West Fork?" Upham clarified.

Jackson nodded. "In the back of a nineteen and thirty-one stretch Hudson with a big ole' trailer.

"No kidding."

Jackson frowned. "I don't make jokes about things of, or related to, the preaching of the Holy Gospel, including the ministerial calling of my family."

"So they travel around from place to place and preach?"

Jackson nodded. Upham turned to Com. "So Sergeant what about you?"

Com's eye flicked back. The others were watching him with unwavering attention. He grinned, turned and looked at the Captain.

"First off, the last names DeParro but here I'm just Com. Spelled C-O-M. That's short for my middle name but what that is doesn't really matter. I'm from Connecticut, Hartford area. My family…" His voice hardened. "One of my brothers is a Paratrooper. He's in the 101st, Easy company. The other one, Joe, is a Medic. Grumpiest SOB you ever hope to meet." He gave an empty smile.

"What does your family do?" Upham asked thinking he found a safe question.

Sergeant DeParro just shook his head and jogged until he was up with Miller

The men behind them watched as they exchanged words then conversed quietly.

"What about the Captain? Where's he from?" Upham whispered. The two rangers shook their heads.

"You figure that out, you got yourself one nice prize." Jackson said. They were far out of earshot of Miller and Com.

"Over three hundred bucks, last I heard. Wade Company's got a pool, five bucks gets you in, who ever guesses where the Captain's from and what he did as a civilian gets it all." Wade said.

"The whole thing… There's a similar thing with Com. Only it's his first name. His is more of a passing fancy type of deal. You just wait and see if it ever slips. The Cap'n doesn't even call him by his real name. Its always his nickname, its got me thinking even _he _doesn't know it. But that's what I don't rightly understand. Thinking as he was with the Cap'n from the beginning." Jackson muttered.

Upham thought for a moment weighting the facts in his mind. "But everybody's heard of Captain Miller. He's won the Congressional Medal of Honor, and saved a dozen men.

Their voices carried back to Reiben and he jumped into the conversation. "We know."

"Somebody must know where he's from, what he did for a living."

Sarge dropped back with them. "Someone probably does."

Upham gave them a look. "Why don't you just ask him?"

Reiben winced. "The Captain prefers not to discuss certain aspects of his life, in particular, everything up to and including his enlistment in the United States Army."

"I've been with him since Anzio. I'm closer to him that I am to my own brother but I don't even know what state he's from. Somewhere in the Northeast as near as I can figure. I don't even have a clue what he did for a living as civilian." Reiben shook his head after Sarge said this.

"No one's gonna win the money for the simple reason that the Captain never was a civilian. They assembled him at O.C.S. out of spare body parts from dead G.I.'s. I know this for a fact."

"You got somethin' against the Cap'n?" Jackson asked defensively.

Reiben shook his head. "Hell, no. I think he's the best officer in the whole goddamned army." They all nod. There was no argument.

"Got that right." Jackson added hotly.

They looked at Miller and Com. They were walking ahead unaware of the conversation behind them.


	4. The First Town

The sun was high over head as the squad walked along side a hedgerow lined field

The sun was high over head as the squad walked along side a hedgerow lined field. The sky was clear and the grass was green. It was hard to believe in the silence that a war was going on. The men walked in staggered intervals, close enough to talk but spread out enough so they wouldn't get mowed down by a machine gun.

"Captain!" Jackson called from the rear. "My feet are most uncomfortable. If I'd 'a known we was gonna have to walk all the way to Ramelle, I never would 'a volunteered for this here mission." He ended with a grumble and shifted his backpack.

"You didn't volunteer, Jackson." Miller reminded him.

"I would have, sir, had I been given the opportunity."

Com glanced behind him and saw that Jackson was serious. The southern boy's face was stone, his mouth set. He could see Reiben's sneering face behind him.

"If we find Ryan and he's still alive, that son-of-a-bitch is gonna carry this goddamned B.A.R. back to the beach for me." Reiben growled.

"Army life is too dang easy, my feet have gone soft. Back home, we go out squirrel huntin', I walk forever and a day and then some, don't even raise a blister." Jackson complained.

Com grinned, when his friends started to grumble, it always turned out to be an entertaining conversation.

"You know what a B.A.R. weighs? Nineteen and a half pounds, not counting ammo! And you think these things are comfortable?" Rei asked jabbing his finger at the packs around his hips. "They may look good but they weigh twelve pounds each, that's thirty-six pounds, right there."

Wade joined in. "So what? I've got three satchel charges, six gammon grenades, a dozen-and-a-half pineapples, Medic supplies and all my regular gear. You don't hear me complaining."

"That's because, as I have pointed out on numerous occasions, you are a happy idiot."

"No, I just happen to take the Captain's advice and look at the bright side of things."

"How do you do it?" Upham asked shaking his head miserably.

"It's easy, it runs in my family, take my grandfather, for example..." Wade started with a smile on his face.

"Oh, Christ, now we gotta listen to that grandfather thing again." Reiben snapped.

Wade took in stride blowing off Reiben's attitude with a puff on his cigarette. "As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted, my grandfather got old, as grandfathers tend to do. He needed someone to take care of him. We move around all the time, going from one mine to another, so we had to put him in a home. Nice enough place but kind of depressing. But not for Granddad. He just convinced himself he was on a cruise ship, going to Tahiti. He had his own cabin, first class, with room service. It just so happened that the weather was always lousy, so he never bothered to go up on deck. Happiest guy you ever saw until the day he died."

"You think he really believed it?"

"Who knows but it worked didn't it?" Com commented.

"Fine, you convince yourself you got a pack full of feathers and goddamned Private James Ryan can carry my fucking gear." Reiben grumbled.

"Reiben, you can be very unpleasant to be around sometimes." Wade sighed.

"You want unpleasant? Just wait, I can do much better than this."

"We know you can Reiben."

Wade shook his head. "Look at Upham, you don't hear him complaining."

"Well, as a matter of fact, I was just thinking..." Upham said.

"Oh look at that. Someone's feeling bold." Com muttered.

Upham just continued on ignoring the men. "That I'm so fucking tired of this goddamned walking, I'd pay a thousand dollars to see that bastard Ryan crawl on his belly over an acre of broken glass to hear my great-aunt Martha fart through a field-telephone.

The group stopped. The men at the front turned and looked at him bewildered.

"Jesus Christ, he's a natural!" Reiben said in awe.

"Upham, you sure you've never been in combat?" Miller called. Upham was just about jumping in joy.

"Positive, sir, I'm certain I'd remember."

Miller looked at him respectfully and nodded. "He's good."

They walked on. It's amazing what a good round of bitching can get for you in the army. Com grinned before mimicking Jackson. "Cap'n, my feet are most uncomfortable." Miller just smiled.

As the morning wore into the afternoon, the sunny skies wore away to, it had started to rain. The small squad ran through the downpour towards a small town that was still an active battle field. As they drew closer the signs of the fighting were more evident. Rubble and spent cartridges were displayed openly, like an interactive museum. Miller signaled towards the men and ran through the gate. He darted behind a car before taking out his gun and waited to fire as the squad piled in.

From a casual observer it might have looked like they were playing a grown mans' leapfrog. A few men would sprint across and hide in the doorways with the residential soldiers, fire a shot or two at the German residents then dart off again trying to get closer to the meeting point.

It was Sarge who played first. Quickly he peered around the car and sprinted for a low brick wall. He slipped on the drenched cobblestones but managed to regain his footing and dove behind the wall. He turned looked back at the Captain waving to him.

The Captain glanced around the corner and spotted Sarge. He motioned to Jackson. "Stay low."

The country boy nodded, pulled his sniper rifle higher on his shoulders and took off zigzagging with bullets blasting the cobblestones around him. He made it slipping in behind Sergeant Horvath.

Next up was Upham, who upon getting the command from Miller froze.

Com called out to him. "Zigzag and change your pace. You'll be alright. I've done it a hundred times. You'll be more then fine." He waved at him urging him on. "I'll see you over there."

Timothy Upham gulped and stood and sprinted across, making the dash in record time. Com and Reiben looked at each other.

"Hey that guy can move." Rei said in awe. "Captain, he's FAST!" Reiben repeated. Miller glanced at Sarge across the way. "Glad of it."

Upham had easily made it across the street and crouched by Jackson. He was noticeably pale but he would be ok.

"Com."

The young NCO nodded and moved closer to the starting point. He stood looked, then sprinted over. He pulled a few zigzags then hurtled over a pile of rubble, lost his balance coming down feet from the wall alleyway. A group of hands grabbed for him and pulled him behind cover as bullets hit the rocks where he previously lay.

Mille came next and motioned to Reiben and Wade. "Come on over."

Dead bodies lay scattered around the town their blood staining the puddles red. Miller looked cautiously around the wall until he located the other American squad. He saw them, curled up next to a makeshift barrier, made of cars, crates, and what possibly could have been a wagon.

The other Captain nodded to your group and the Rangers rushed over before the Germans could get a chance to shoot them up. Com waited by a crate near the two Captains as they sorted it out.

"Hamill." The man offered before he asked. "How was the road in?" He noted Millers stripes and dropped formalities.

Miller shrugged. "We had a jeep until a few hours ago. Pretty nice one too. Had a cute little flag with a couple of starts on it."

"Oh, what shame." The Hamill replied shaking his head at the loss of such a fine specimen.

"We called a strike on the Eighty-eights that took us out, but it's the kraut spotter that counts, wherever the hell that bastard is."

The other captain pointed across the wide town square and deeper into the town where a large steeple stood.

"That's where your boy is. We've been trying to get him since its morning. He killed two of my men trying to get close enough for a shot."

Com glanced over the barrier at the steeple. "Jackson could get that Captain."

"Yup. He can." Miller replied gazing at it. "Alright then Jackson."

Jackson stepped up and gave Com a glare. He pulled out his long barreled sniper and adjusted the scope before putting it on top of the car top for a better aim.

Upham and the men regarded him silently. Jackson placed his eye to the scope and looked carefully for the enemy sniper while muttering a prayer. His finger pulled back on the trigger and the gun bucked back with tremendous recoil. He nodded slowly and swung his gun across his back.

Upham looked at him and shook his head. "That must have been 4000 yards."

Jackson shrugged rubbing his shoulder meekly. "Forty two hundred, I suppose." He said slowly then he glanced at the others as if they would reprimand him.

Hamill looked back at Miller with a smile on his face. "How far back is the rest of the division?"

"Very far, there not coming this way, there going to Caen first."

Reiben moaned and Hamill sighed. "Damn, I was afraid of that. Were in a lot of trouble up here and it's only gonna get worse. How many men did you bring?"

"Seven. Were not staying, were on our way to Ramelle." Miller clarified.

"Shit, your going to Private Ryan aren't you?"

Miller nodded.

"We're supposed to tell you, they intercepted a German transmission after you left. The Krauts have two companies on their way to Ramelle to take back that bridge. They'll be there sometime tomorrow afternoon."

"Great." Sarge sighed.

Hamill eyed the horizon warily. "You don't want to leave until tonight. We're screwed in real tight. After dark you can try to slip out to the east. If you tip-toe, stay off the main roads and roll a few sevens, you've got a fair chance of making it up to Ramelle by tomorrow night."

Miller nodded thoughtfully with a slight frown. "Aright boys lets find someplace to hole up." He nodded goodbye to the other captain and lead the way out.

If only they knew the first night away from home would be spent in a cathedral.


	5. The One and Only

The large stone cathedral which the men were bunking in for the night was lacking comfort and unbelievably drafty

The large stone cathedral which the men were bunking in for the night was lacking comfort and unbelievably drafty. Money that could have been put towards comfort was instead invested in large stained glass murals of the Mother and Child. Jackson said that was the way it should have been, beautiful architecture, uncomfortable chairs. And yet, like Jackson said, what the building was lacking in accommodations brought for in charm, plus it beat having to sleep in the rain.

The squad huddled around the middle of the church away from the damaged walls and the cold drafts. Hamill's men started a fire in a small barrel and the towering candles were lit, setting the room in a soft orange glow. The men were as comfortable as they could get, wrapped in their thick woolen blankets, size nine shoes off their feet, rations in their bellies. Quiet chatter soon turned into something else as soon as Reiben was satisfied with the routine.

"Captain, could u please explain the math of this mission to me?" Reiben asked exercising bitching ability with utmost mastery as he paced around the room. Most men stopped this trade as soon as they hit combat, their minds tuned into fear.

Miller looked up at him and took a bite of his K-rations. "What do you want to know?"

"Well sir, in purely arithmetic terms, since when does six equal one? What's the sense of risking six guys to save one? "

Miller shrugged. "Ours is not to reason why." Rei regarded him warily waiting for more to the answer.

"Never mind don't worry, we'll pick up this kid, high tail it back to division, and everything will work out fine.

The dark haired man frowned. "I'd rather die in Caen than Ramelle sir. It's a personal thing."

"Rei,' Com sighed and rubbed at his eye,' there's a good chance you're not going to die at all. Don't throw your name in the pot just yet." He paused for a moment trying to find a reason behind it himself. "Think of the guy's mother."

Reiben glared around the room before resuming his pacing." Hey I got a mother. Jackson you got a mother?"

"Last I knew." The patient southerner entered the fight.

"Wade, Sarge, Corporal Insect, even you Com, you've got a mother, hell of a nice lady I'm sure. I bet the Captain has a mother." He eyed you all, stopping at the captain and reconsidered. "Kay maybe not the captain, But the rest of us have mothers."

Miller smiled. "You have orders too."

Jackson waved his hand lazily from where he sat near Com.

"Sir I have an opinion on this matter."

"I'd love to hear it" Miller replied patiently.

"Seems to me, Cap'n, this mission is a serious misallocation of valuable military resources. By my way of thinkin'. I am a finely made instrument of warfare. What I mean by that is if you was to put me with this here sniper rifle anywhere up to an including one mile from Adolf Hitler. With a clear line of sight, wars over. Amen."

Miller nodded. "Reiben, I want you to listen closely to Jackson. This is the way to gripe. Jackson, Continue."

"Yes, sir. It seems to me, sir that the entire resources of the United States Army oughta be dedicated to one thing and one thing only, and that is to put me and this here weapon on a rooftop, smack-dab in the middle of Berlin, Germany. Now I ain't one to question decisions made up on high, sir, but it seems to me that saving one private, no matter how grievous the losses of his family, is a waste of my God-given talent."

Miller looked around and decided more than one person needed to be assured. "Wade?"

"Hell, I don't mind this mission,' The small man shrugged,' as long as there's something in Ramelle for…" He took a puff on his cigarette and stared deer like around the room.

"For you to blow up, yeah, yeah. We've heard it before." Reiben muttered as he took a seat with the others.

"Upham?"

The Corporal shrugged and shook his head. "Pass"

"Com?"

He looked at the Captain wearily, as much as he enjoyed hearing it, he wasn't a great debater. "I don't care. Ramelle… Caen. It's all the same to me. I go because it gets me one step closer the enemy, one step closer to the end of the war. If it means we gotta get Jackson a mile away from Hitler with a clear shot then I'm all for it."

He nodded and looked at the remaining man. "Sarge?"

"I'm just here to keep a bunch of numb-nuts, including one certain, frequently suicidal, tempter-of-fate, from getting themselves killed."

Reiben eyed Miller. "What about you Captain?"

Miller looked at him with feigning shock. "Reiben, what's the matter with you? I don't gripe to you. I'm a Captain. There's a chain of command. Griping goes one way, up, only up, never down. You gripe to me, I gripe to superior officers. Up, get it? I don't gripe to you, I don't gripe in front of you. How long you been in the army?"

"Sorry sir I apologize. But," Reiben paused then came back smirking, if you weren't a Captain, or if I were a major, what would you say?"

The captain considered it quietly.

"Well in that case, I would say this is an excellent mission. With an extremely valuable objective, worthy of my best efforts."

Com rolled his eyes and grinned.

Miller continued on his voice void of all obvious sarcasm. "In addition, as I pointed out earlier, I have a fondness for cheese and I hope to have the opportunity to sample some of the Ramelle products, when we arrive there, to see if they live up to their excellent reputation. Moreover, I feel heartfelt sorrow for the mother of Private James Ryan and I'm more than willing to lay down my life, and the lives of my men, especially you, Reiben, to help her suffering."

Jackson, Com and Wade snickered.

"Sir if you weren't a captain I would compliment you for being an excellent lair." Com told him between chuckles.

Miller looked at him with a naughty twinkle in his eyes.

"But I am a captain. If I were not a captain, I would thank you for the compliment and tell you that the ability to lie comes from being a top-notch poker player, which I am, having learned at the side of my mother who is, by popular acclaim, the best poker player in..."

A few of the younger members lean in expectantly as he talked. Miller noticed and smiled widely.

"My home town, which shall remain un-named."

A few sighs were uttered.

"Any other thoughts on the matter?" Miller offered adjusting his position on the floor.

Reiben flicked his fingers up as if at an auction. " Yes, sir, as a final note, I'd like to say, fuck our orders, fuck Ramelle, the cheese capital of France and while we're at it, fuck Private James Ryan."

"I'll make a note of your suggestions but I'll leave that last one to you, especially if he's already dead."

Ferocious laughter rebounded around the room.

Miller's eyes flicked towards his watch. "We move out in two hours. Get some sleep."

They settled down with sporadic giggles, laying out on the pews and pulling their blankets around them. Sarge walked down the Isle one final time checking if they were following orders, and found his own bed, in the orange tinted room.


	6. Movement

**Wow. The last time I updated….was a long time ago. Heh. Sorry bout that. I kind of forgot about this story I was so wrapped up in Crossroads. We'll here's the new chapter. **

**I dont own Saving Private Ryan. If I did I would be extreamly rich and I would know Tom Hanks and Matt Damon. I would like that. ;D**

Captain Miller sat in the dark, hunched over a small map, he held a flashlight close to the silken sheet, hand cupped over the light, hoping his comrades would not wake. Unidentified artillery rumbled in the distance and the Captain momentarily wondered whether it was ally or enemy.

Com sat up slowly during the explosions, there was a crisp alertness in his eyes that made it obvious he didn't just wake up. He scanned around for something amiss and frowned when he saw the Captain's bag. A small pile of unopened letters sat quietly inside.

"Are you ever going to open those letters?" The young sergeant asked his voice was ruff from lack of use.

"Maybe" The captain replied. "Your insomnia working up again Com?"

The man shrugged shrugged ignoring the Captain's question figuring the fact he was awake was answer enough. "It's not normal, not reading letters from home."

Miller looked at him. "Since when have things been normal? If it were normal we'd be at home, and you'd be in collage by now, or out on your own at least. We'd never see Germany more less a few miles past the home town."

"True." Com rubbed his nose and looked back at the letters. "You afraid of bad news?"

Miller shook his head.

"Good news?"

Miller looked at him, their was the slightest trace of worry under his scolding eyes. Com looked away. His eyes scanned over the forms of his sleeping comrades.

A few minutes ticked by and the brown haired sergeant decided now was the time to ask what had been weighing heavily upon his mind since the invasion.

"Do you think the boys' will be alright?"

The captain nodded. "They're fine. As long as they can gripe, they'll be alright."

John looked at Com critically, assessing his drawn face, and the dark circles that seemed to be permanent under the boy's eyes. "What about you? You'll be ok won't you?"

Com gave him a half hearted shrug followed by a halfhearted smile. "I don't know sir. I really don't know. We've been at this for two years now. We had so many close encounters in Africa... "He trailed off and glanced at Miller from the corner of his eye.

The Captain nodded and gave him a understanding nod. The soft echo of far away bombs once again entered the church. His face darkened. "There's no way these guys are going to be able to hold.

The younger man shook his head in agreement.

"I hope this Ryan kid is worth it."

Milled regarded his statement and looked at his watch. "Get up boys. Lets go!" He barked.

Groans were shared but the men got up and shouldered their gear.

The slim moon was high in the sky when the small band of seven exited the church. The town is alight with the sound and light of a distant barrage and the more worrying sound of soldiers firing arms. Captain led the way to the outskirts of town where Captain Hamill and a few men stood waiting.

A flash of light appeared on the Horizon. It was follow by countless others. The sky was on fire with the eruption of bombs. Men stood transfixed watching the fireworks.

"Makes you feel small, doesn't it?" Sarge's awe-struck voice cut through the paralysis.

Miller sighed but his voice was strong and decided. "Lets go, this ain't what they pay us for."

Captain Hamill pointed towards the road. " Along the wall, about thirty yards, there's a gate, on the other side, a drainage ditch, stay low until you clear the second field, then you'll hit the woods."

"Lets Move!" Miller headed off along the wall.

The rumbling artillery began fade away as the group moved through the darkness. The squad followed Jackson along a French cart path.

A twig snap brought the men to a halt. They held their guns at the ready and waited for Jackson's hand signals.

Jackson held up three fingers. They went down once. Thirty.

Miller started signaling the men off the path. The eased into the bush. It was if the Germans waited for them to hide because the instant they were under the enemy waltzed past. Six of the band had their fingers on the trigger waiting for Miller to initiate fire. The captain shook his head and motioned for them to let them go by.

An entire platoon of Germans rounded the bend. Fifty men. Twenty more then expected. Rei breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his gun, watching the men pass. He was hardly two feet from the moving men.

The last of the Germans staggered by and Com stood up with the rest of the men, they were ready to move on. Warily they picked their way over the rugged dirt road. Birds began to chirp in the early mourn, and the sun peaked over the horizon setting the world in a warm glow.

The road split four ways and they came to a dreary halt. Miller dug in his pocket and pulled out his map.

Com scanned the roads for a marker. There it was, the small sign propped up against a stone. Painted in black across the front was Ramelle 16 Km.

The Captain nodded and stowed his map, his eyes met the horizon. "Morning is coming fast. Lets pick it up." He began to walk.

**/-/-/**** When he gets to Heavens Gate, To St. Peter he will tell 'Just one more soldier reporting sir, I've spent my time in hell'**** /-/-/**

The French country side was bathed in early morning light. Noise of distant guns had been replaced by the sound of restless animals. The men sat in a ditch by the road, resting and eating their rations.

Com was leaning against Reiben, eyes closed, head resting on the other mans shoulder, finally asleep.

The captain stood near a road marker. Miller's eyes scanned over the countryside with hawk like intensity. It a lovely morning, dew shimmering on the long grass, the war seemed far away.

Upham picked his way towards the Captain and they stood together silently for a moment.

"It looks like a Renoir." Miller said, motioning lightly at the scenery.

Upham looked at him in awe. "Yes." He nodded sharply. "Do you know Sibelius' Forth Symphony, the Normandy?"

Miller smiled. "I've been humming it."

'I heard."

"It seemed appropriate." Miller clarified with a shrug.

"You know classical?"

"Some."

"Where are you from, Captain?" Miller grinned.

"What's the pool up to?"

Upham smiled coyly, caught trying to catch the Captain off guard. "Over three hundred."

Miller whistled. "I'll tell you what, if I'm still alive when it hits five-hundred, I'll let you know and we'll split the money."

Upham looked over his shoulder to the sleeping Com. "If that's the way you feel, why don't we wait until it's up to a thousand."

Miller gave him a ' You expect us to live that long?' look. Upham blushed and thought it over. "Yah…five hundred."

The Captain nodded as he took a last look at the view and turned back to his men. His eyes fell on his young officer and sighed. "Let's go!" He called as he walked back to the group.

The squad walked along the hedgerow lane. Smoke drifted before them barely visible from under the tangle of roots. Miller motioned to the men and they advanced. A French farm lay smoldering before them.


	7. One Last Look

It was high noon when the small squad walked past the farm

It was high noon when the small squad walked past the farm. Dead cows lay scattered about the pasture, and flies swarmed over their bodies. Com scanned over the fields, his eyes flicking from tree to bush in search of the enemy. He raised his hand, his fist clenched and slowly knelt on the ground. The rest of the group followed his lead disappearing in the tall grass. Miller darted over to his point man and knelt beside him. "Those trees there." The younger man pointed to a trio of tall oaks, their trunks were peppered by bullet wounds. The Captains eyes followed the riddled trees down the flattened grass and trail of blood. Two paratroopers lay side by side, limbs sticking out awkwardly.

"Machine gun." Miller muttered to himself craning his heck to see around the trees.

"You see that rigging?" Com asked pointing over the tops of the trees towards a spindly tower. "It has to be under those."

"What is it!?" Upham asked nervously from the rear of the line.

"Machine gun." Captain answered. The two eased back from the edge of the field into the cover of the brush. The other men joined them.

Miller dropped his pack and pulled out a map. He scanned the area then placed it back in his pocket.

Reiben decided it was time to speak up. "Sir, I've got an idea. Let's go around."

"We can't leave it here." Miller said severely as he checked his rifle.

"We left them eighty-eights!" Jackson commented as he gazed at the trees.

Miller gave them a harsh look. "They don't send planes to take out machine guns,' he paused,' I need two flank runners with suppressing fire. I'm going right. Whoever takes left has to be fast."

Upham stepped forward after a moment of mental confrontation. "Sir, I ran the 220 in high school."

"He's fast, captain, I saw him" Reiben confirmed.

"How fast?" Wade raised his eyebrows.

Com shot him a glace. Why would that matter? What was Wade thinking?

"Twenty-four-five." Upham shot back his fingers drumming against the wooden stock of his gun.

"That's nothing. I ran twenty-two flat." Wade bragged.

Com watched the passing spat uneasily. He would have offered to go but he was no track star. Pitchers didn't have to be fast.

Miller watched the argument. "Wade goes left."

Wade peeled of his extra gear. And Upham nodded impressed. "Twenty-two flat…" He plucked a grenade from Wade's chest strap.

"I would have won the states if some bastard hadn't tripped me in the finals."

Miller pointed the men into their firing positions.

"Be careful Doc." Com warned his friend worry pasted over his face.

Sarge spoke quietly to the captain. "Rule of thumb, Captain, says you ought to detail this one, instead of going yourself. Send Com in. He's a good leader he has experience."

Miller looked at the two dead paratroopers. "What rule of thumb is that?"

"How about I go right, sir?" Sarge offered.

Miller glared. "How about you take your position?"

Sarge hesitated but nodded and moved off.

" Good Luck sir." Reiben muttered as the Captain passed.

Miller smiled brightly. "Don't need it, I'm a cat, I've got five lives."

"Its nine, Sir." Com sighed.

"I had nine, but I feel through the ice when I was seven, my brother pulled me out. Then I used one when a grenade landed in my foxhole in Sicily, it was a dud. I figure one on the beaches, one on the cliffs and two getting here."

"That only leaves three…" Upham said worried.

Miller shrugged nonchalantly. "That's plenty."

With the Men in position He nodded to Wade. Both took a calming breath. "NOW!" The two runners took of in Full sprint. A tension filled moment passed. Then: heavy machine gun fire opened. It was murderously loud. The first round of fire that exploded out of the gun was aimed at Miller. He hit the dirt as bullets screamed above him. The gun sung towards Wade and Miller jumped up and continued his wild sprint. Wade followed Millers pattern and flopped against the dirt. Bullets grazed his helmet in a way all common to Com.

The Men left behind lock onto the machine gun nest and fire as fast as they can. Their bullets thud ineffectively into the dirt near the gun trench.

Miller took off again as neared the Bunker. He drooped as bullets pelted the dirt next to him. Wade ran hard but he was too slow. A row of bullets kick up dirt as they flew at him. He was caught between a rock and a hard place. He ran desperately but bullets ripped into his body. His body spun then fell gracelessly to the dirt.

A horrified yell erupted from Com's mouth as he watched his friend fall. He ran forward ignoring Sarge's calls to stay put.

Miller struggled on ignorant of what had befallen their medic. He swung his Thompson into position and opened fire on a German rifleman. He continued without breaking stride. The German machinegun's swung his fire towards Com but the bullets thudded into the ground in front of him.

Miller blasts down two more German riflemen and grabbed a grenade from his vest. He pulled the pin and chucked it into the nest. He dived off to the side and covered his head waiting for the immanent explosion.

A terrifying boom cut the machine gun fire short.

As the grenade went off the others rushed towards wade. They found Wade on his back hands pressed to his abdomen. His smiling face was contorted into a grimace.

Com kneeled next to his fallen comrade and pulled out his Med Kit. Miller joined them his chest heaving.

Wade lay still he was in too much pain to even move. "C..C…" He tried to speak but blood leaked from his mouth.

"Shush Wade quiet don't talk." Com said trying to hide the frantic tone that leaked into his voice. He pulled open a sulfa packed frantically spilling some to the ground. Miller pulled the medics hands from his wound and Com poured the packet on.

"WHERE AM I HIT! WHERE AM I HIT!?" Wade looked wildly around face to face. It was Sarge who answered him. "There are two spots. Tell us how to make you better."

"Let me feel it! Let me feel it!" Miller released the mans hands and they flittered over the wounds. Wade let out a mournful wail. "It hit my liver! OH God!"

Miller threw his sulfa packet aside and pulled out a morphine pack. Wades eyes landed on the Captain's hands. Their eyes met. Miller shoved the needle into Wade's neck hoping the vein would carry the morphine straight to his brain.

"Goddamn it…Goddamn it. God damn it." Reiben muttered frantically as he looked at Wade.

The medic chocked out words. He called for his mother. He pleaded for his comrades to help him. Pain dulling as the morphine entered his brain.

Jackson looked on wide eyed tears welling in his eyes. He muttered a prayer.

Wade looked at the sky one final time. It was bright blue and happy clouds hung in the atmosphere. Irony is a friend of death, taking the best of men, often leaving the worst. Happy go lucky Wade died on foreign soil, for a war, that hadn't really endangered his family or his home town. He died for a set of ideals that he would never understand.

Each mourned in his own way. Tears welled up in Com's eyes and his shoulders shook, breath coming out in chocked sobs. Upham cried openly. Reiben continued his furious muttering hand grasping his B.A.R. so tight his knuckles were white.

The Captain stood silent, motionless, he gently closed Wades grey eyes and his hand quivered as he unclipped one of the dog tags. He pocketed it and carefully repacked the unused supplies and rose to his feet. He picked up his Thompson.

Upham shook his head tears streaming down his face. "That was no twenty-two flat."

Miller slammed a fresh clip into his Thompson. "He lied. Let's move."

He turned and walked away with out looking back. He hid his emotions under a mask and relied on moving to ease his mind. The men followed him one by one. Com was the last to leave.


	8. Letters From War

**I've had this sitting around on my computer for two years no, I wrote it up even before I finished To Save Private Ryan/ The Rising Tide. I've come to a conclusion of sorts. I dont beleive I'm ever going to Finish that story and its only fair to shed some light on this baby. It may clear things up or it made make everything a muddled mess. I dont quite know. But I'm Happy to answer any questions. Over this or anything else. **

**Thank you for putting up with me.**

_**Letters from War**_

"Come here Lieutenant."

A young man looked up from where he was waiting by the tent door. He walked towards a cluttered field desk and offered a snapping salute as he came to a stop. "Sir."

The Major gave a tight smile and waved his hand at a wooden chair. His calculating eyes flashed over his newly commissioned officer. The man was a tall, thin fellow with an athletic build and short cropped dark brown hair. His grey eyes held a cold ferocity that the Major didn't recall from their last meeting.

"I would offer you some coffee Lieutenant… but most of our stock was lost in the landing,' He shrugged apologetically, 'Let's get down to business. As you know, Charlie Company was literally obliterated during the invasion. The men who made it past the first day are all in the Medics care. None are ready to go further into France. I wouldn't be surprised if they all get shipped home to recover." The major paused momentarily letting the news sink in.

"As I am sure you know there are only two men from Charlie who are still in fighting shape, Private Reiben and yourself. It doesn't leave us much of a choice. You, the remainder of Charlie Company, have two choices; you can work with the regular infantry and wait for the next group of Rangers to finish training. An approximated 2 months. Or you can join another company or possibly even division entirely. Lieutenant DeParro, it is your choice."

Brian DeParro looked at the Major after a moment of thinking. "What about those Paratroopers?"

"The ones you hooked up with at Ramelle? You're not kidding are you? Your gonna get you killed."

Com looked into his commanders eyes. "That's what we're trained for sir."

The newly made Lieutenant walked out of the officer's tent with a letter clutched in his hand. He looked around the encampment and saw his lone squad member eating his lunch.

"Reiben finish up. We're heading out."

The dark haired man swore. "We just got back! What good are two damn people goin' to do!"

DeParro shrugged. "Not much. We're visiting those paratroopers, they've got a group of 'em caught up here with out an officer, the Major wants these babies to make it safely."

A twisted smile found its way onto Reiben's face. "Back to the goddamn paratroopers. We loose four fuckin' men saving one of them, now we gotta go protect their asses again!"

Com smiled trying to raise his mood. "They're headed to Caen. If we hurry we should be able to catch them there."

Reiben smiled widely. "You didn't lie to me Com! Caen!" He laughed.

"Pack up Reiben. I'm getting ammo. I'll see you at the supply tent."

Com left the B.A.R. man and went into the supply tent. A supply sergeant was standing behind a desk checking inventory. He looked up and saluted.

"Sergeant I need ammo for a M-1 and a B.A.R., Grenades for two, a pack of explosives, and rations to last two weeks."

The man nodded and held out an order form. "Just sign here sir." He moved around the small tent pulling cases and clips from the boxes. He put them on the table and stuck his hand into a small box. He placed two packages of Lucky Strikes cigarettes on the table. "Even if you don't smoke, sir, these things are more valuable then money."

The sergeant gave Com a friendly smile as he packed up. "Good luck sir."

Reiben joined DeParro as he came out of the tent. He took his half of the pile and packed it away. "Where to buddy?"

Com smiled grimly. "We gotta pick up the babies."

Reiben groaned and ran his hands through his hair. "There all going to be Uphams' I know it!

Com thumped him on the back. "They can't all be bad. Hell even Ryan turned out ok."

He turned around and started to walk towards the makeshift barracks. 'Let's get these Troopers. Then we'll snag a ride."

Reiben chuckled and dropped his helmet on his head. "Are we going to steal some Majors jeep?"

The Lieutenant smirked as he walked towards the edge of camp. "We'll just have to see."

They tore down a dirt road in on a motorcycle laughing their heads off as they went. A olive green jeep following them, pale faced men bouncing along in back as a white knuckled Corporal followed the two Rangers over the bumpy road. Reiben took a swig from his canteen, enjoying the wind in his face even if he was in the sidecar. He capped the bottle and took up his B.A.R.

"So Com why'd you choose the goddamned paratroopers? We could have had two months off. "

Com's smile fell and he glanced in the mirror back towards the 12 replacements. "We're needed elsewhere. Plus Captain Miller would do it."

Reiben grew somber. "He was a good man."

DeParro slowed to a stop when they approached a fork in the road and pulled out a map. The jeep came to a halt and the men jumped out for a stretch.

"Everything good sir?" The corporal appeared at his shoulder and gave a weary grin to the scowling Reiben.

"Just fine Smitty. We'll have you back with your company before the day ends."

The weedy Corporal nodded vigorously and gathered the Privates back up. He gave a nod to the Lt and the small troop of cars set off.

Brian smiled slightly. "Only a few more miles Reiben. We might be so lucky as to see Sergeant Forrest over dinner." His tone had the slightest hint of sarcasm.

"At least we didn't have to walk this time." Reiben grumbled.

They past a road marker: _**CAEN 5 KM**_.

They weren't half a mile from the fork in the road when they heard the high pitched whine of mortar fire over the roar of the engine.

"DAMN!" Com swore swerving the mortar cycle the best he could with the bulky side car. The sidecars wheel clipped a rut and it tipped over. The two men landed in a tangled pile they shoved themselves up as more mortars came in exploding around them. They pushed at the cycle trying to get it upright but the barrage was thick. In a mad dash they abandoned the cycle and leapt for the jeep as it hurtled past. Hands gripped their arms and pulled them into the already crowded back seat. The wheels squealed as the Corporal jerked the car to the side and floored the pedal. It shot down the road and slid through a turn. The mortar men fell behind them like an unpleasant memory and everyone gave a sigh of relief.

"Again! 'Reiben gasped,' again with the shitty mortar!"

An hour later they ran out of gas.

The squad of 14 arrived at Caen later that afternoon, footsore but full in strength. The Rangers walk before the men, guns ready to fire, but they hardly looked worried with the barrels resting in the crook of their arms. Their lack of worry calmed the men behind them and a few cheerful words were passed around, bragging took up the majority of the conversation. The joy of replacements.

They came to a stop 20 feet from the gate of the town and raised their guns above their head, as two nervous paratroopers came forward. When the men came to a stop they returned the guns to their arms.

"Shouldn't y'all be here already?" One of them asked glaring at the paratroopers behind them. "An' shouldn't y'all Infantry boys be off on the beach?" The man noticed DeParro's rank and saluted. " 'Scuse me, sir."

"Its fine soldier. These boys are replacements. Command wanted them to get here safe and sound. Now I've business with your ranking officer. I assume he's in town?" Com replied raising his eyebrow.

The soldier nodded. "Right on in sir."

A huge smile broke out on Reiben's face when they walked under the arch. "We're here Com! We're finally in Caen!"

* * *

The men of 101st Airborne, who had found their way to the town, lazed in large groups soaking up the late afternoon sun. A large group of about twenty slugged around the town square. When the two Rangers walked into the square it caused a quiet uproar.

"Who the hell are they?" A stocky dark haired man asked. His Philly accent wasn't uncommon in the group.

"Rangers obviously." A tall lanky man answered pushing his black bangs out of his eyes. "Wonder what there doing here."

"Shuddup Vinnie." The Philadelphian sniped.

Com turned to Reiben and gave him a gentle smile. "Hey Rei. You don't have to follow me around. Go find your French number in her cream lingerie. Your in Caen enjoy yourself while were here."

Reiben shaded his eyes and looked around. "Don't look like there's any silk teddies are being made, mate." He waved his hand dismissively. "I'll go enjoy myself. I'll see you later lieutenant."

The two went their own ways having dumped the squad of replacements with a Sergeant. Com walked down the street and Reiben headed over to the group of paratroopers.

"Hey Fellas." Reiben greeted as he dropped his pack and took a seat next to the men.

The man from Philly was the first to greet him. "What are you guys doin' here?"

Reiben shrugged and took a sip from his canteen. "Same thing you are. Fighting the fucking Germans."

The man grinned. "Bill Guarnere."

"Richard Reiben."

Then Vinnie, tall lanky man who identified the Rangers earlier spoke up. "What company are you from?"

Reiben glanced his way and cocked his eyebrow. The man looked vaguely familiar. "Charlie."

"Shit no way! Do you know a guy named Brain DeParro?"

Reiben paused for a moment, eyebrows knitted together. "You mean Com? Yah he's around here some where. I think he went of to find your CO."

Vinnie stood up and jogged off away from the group.

Com was steps away from the commanding officer. He pulled the letter out of his pocket and took the final step. "Sir!" He said. The man turned and Com realized he was facing a Lieutenant. The man was tall and thin, he had short red hair, brown eyes, and a long face. He looked at Lieutenant DeParro and confusion was evident on both their faces.

Com took the incentive and spoke first. "Lieutenant Winters? Names Brian DeParro, Rangers, Charlie Company, 2nd division. My CO sent me to deliver some replacements, 11 Privates, 1 Corporal. Also I've been ordered to join your ranks. He has it explained here." He handed him the letter and waited as he opened it and skimmed through.

Winters nodded. "There are only two of you?"

"That's right. The most of the company was wiped out on the invasion. There were six men remaining, myself included, that were sent on a mission you are probably familiar with. "

Winters thought it over. "You were with the men who protected Ramelle?" Com nodded.

Dick offered his hand. "We're glad to have you. We lost quite a few men on the jump."

They exchanged a hand shake and Dick led him to a makeshift HQ. He smiled and waved his hand at a chair across from a makeshift desk, constructed of a few mix matched boxes.

The men sat and Dick sighed rubbing his eyes momentarily before beginning his questioning.

"Were you a lieutenant before Ramelle?"

Com shook his head. "I was a Sergeant. I was promoted to NCO after Anzio."

"Italy?"

A nod. "I joined before Kasserine Pass**."**

Winters nodded and the questioning continued.

________________________________________________________________________

Half an hour past and a group of four men walked into the headquarters interrupting the interview. A smaller man raised his eyebrow at Winters. "What's going on Dick?"

Winters looked at the men. "The army sent us Rangers." The two men stood. "This is Brain DeParro. He was one of the Rangers at Ramelle."

"Lewis Nixon." The small man grinned. He was swarthy with dark hair, a Lieutenant. Buck Compton a tall, well built man with short pale blond hair smiled brightly and gave a booming "Hey." There was a man named Carwood Lipton with red brown hair and finally a tall, dark haired man with serious expression offered himself as Ron Speirs.

Com gave the men a smile and shook hands.

Winters looked at Nixon. "I was thinking second platoon."

Lewis nodded. "Sounds good. Welcome to Easy Lieutenant."

Speirs stood up. "I'll show him." DeParro nodded to the remaining officers and followed Speirs out.

________________________________________________________________________

Vinny ran down the crowded streets of Caen craning his head to get a better look at the men he past. So far no one had seen a Ranger walk by. But then as he turned a corner he saw a Rangers orange diamond insignia on the back of a helmet. He began to sprint weaving his way through crowed soldiers. Some men called out to him but he ignored them and yelled. "Brian! You dirty bastard!"

The Ranger turned his head and his paratrooper companion stopped too. It was then Vinny saw that both men had the white bar on their helmets. Signifying lieutenancy and more importantly… the Rangers companion was Lieutenant Speirs. Vinny came to a skidding halt, mere feet from the officers and whipped out a salute, his face pale.

"Forgive me sir." He said hand still frozen above his brow.

Speirs looked at DeParro with a smirk. "I get the feel he's related to you."

Com nodded a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Very well then Private DeParro you will show Lieutenant DeParro second platoon."

Speirs gave the other officer a small smile before walking off.

"You don't have to keep saluting me you know." Com remarked a grin appearing on his face.

Vincent DeParro grimaced, then smiled at his younger brother and pulled him into a bone crushing hug.

"HA! I can't believe it! Look at you! A Lieutenant! God you gotta tell me what happened! Why the hell are you here?! You're not hurt are you?" Vinny held him at arms length and looked over him with a critical eye.

"God Vinny. You never cared so much before." His brother scolded shaking off his brothers hands." Your acting just like mom, you know. I'm just fine. Got hit in the shoulder three days ago, nothing serious, so don't worry about it." He tried to direct him off the subject. "What about you, how've ya been?"

"Just fine. The jump didn't go great. The planes dumped us all over the place. But I made it in one piece and found my way here. We haven't done much except wait for the others to show up. We're missing a lot of guys."

Vince turned and started to walk back towards the town square. And Brian finally got a good look at his brother. The 22 year old was still taller then he. He was still in tiptop shape, unlike his younger brother, who was suffering from combat fatigue and lack of proper food. Vince's black hair was cropped short on the sides but was getting a bit shaggy on top. His hazels eyes still held their childlike playfulness, and for that Com was glad.

"What's happened to you Brian?" He glanced at the younger man with worry in his voice.

Com just shook his head.

The two DeParro brothers returned to the town square and headed towards the group of men. Reiben noticing their approach stood and joined his superior a few meters away from the paratroopers. He eyed Vinny with a look of contempt when he didn't leave.

"What's the word, Boss?" His voice held that nasty sting he reserved for new recruits.

"We're gonna be sticking around for a while Reiben." Reiben's face was sour but he nodded.

"Alright then... Sir." The word came as an afterthought, added on because of their company.

Vinny watched him through narrowed eyes, his words sounded like insolence. His nose scrunched and he gave Brian a forceful look, wondering why his brother would allow this _Private_ talk to him like that. "Second platoon is over here _Sir."_ He said the last word forcefully, as he glared at Reiben.

**Com: short for Noncom aka NCO or Non Commissioned Officer**


End file.
